"You will never know unless you try me."
"Then hear. He is one Nehesi."
At the name an angry buzz broke out, and Djehuty shouted, "You cannot put us into his hands. Majesty! He is a Nubian himself!"
Thothmes waved a placatory arm, and they subsided into startled silence. They had forgotten that he was there. "Peace, all of you! Sit down, Djehuty! Do we not trust Aahmes pen-Nekheb, beloved of our father? Is his judgment not sound?"
Djehuty retired, still muttering and casting dark looks at pen-Nekheb.
The old man was unruffled. "It is true that Nehesi is black," he said, "but he is not Nubian. He was born on Egyptian soil. His mother is a servant to Pharaoh's mother, the lovely Mutnefert, and his father was a slave brought back by Ineni as plunder. Nehesi has been a soldier from his earliest years. I call him a genius. He is a silent man, not given to emotion or any excess, but his prowess with bow, ax, and spear is unexcelled, and he has a cold and farseeing mind."
Hatshepsut called for Duwa-eneneh. "Find this person, and bring him to me with all speed," she ordered.
When he had gone, they waited in silence, not daring to say any more. Sen-nefer took out a box of sweetmeats and pushed a couple into his girlish mouth. Yamu-nefru began to file his nails. But the rest of them sat awkwardly while the horns sounded for noon and their heads became dizzy from the intensifying heat.
At last the Chief Herald returned, and Nehesi stood before them. They looked at him with open curiosity. He was tall, taller than any of them, and blacker than the night of the khamsin. His kilt seemed a silly, flimsy thing, a patch of white on a colossal body whose muscles rippled and flexed as he bowed. His leather helmet, also white, framed a face magnificent in its blunt angles and smooth, shiny planes. His nose was straight.
betraying sonic Egyptian blood somewhere far back in his family's history. His full lips were firm and cold. He ignored them all, staring at the wall over their heads. If he saw Djehuty's sneer, he made no sign.
''Come closer," Thothmes told him. He took two lithe, gliding steps, his feet bare and dusty from the training ground. Over one shoulder he still wore a leather quiver that held three arrows. ''How long have you served the army?" Thothmes asked, his voice kindly.
Nehesi answered with no hesitation, his voice deep. "Fifteen years, Majesty."
"What positions do you hold?"
"Commander of the Shock Troops. I also train charioteers, and I put the Braves of the King through their paces."
The indifferent, emotionless tone provoked an awed reaction from the men around the table. Senmut looked at the Negro with new respect. The Braves of the King were the elite of the army, the handpicked men who led every assault and were directly responsible to Pharaoh himself. Even Djehuty's face lost its look of disdain.
"How much action have you seen?" User-amun asked.
The man impatiently shrugged a massive shoulder. "There has been no war since I was an apprentice in the ranks of the infantry," he said, "but I have been on raids and border skirmishes without number. My Shock Troops have never been routed." He was not boasting; he simply stated a fact.
"What of strategy?" Hatshepsut asked him.
He shook his head. "I was born for war," he said, "and I feel the rightness or the wrongness of placements in my bones, but only at the time of battle. I cannot put my thoughts upon a map."
Aahmes pen-Nekheb spoke up. He had been watching the reactions his protege was causing with quiet amusement. He thought that it would do the young aristocrats good to have their first taste of blood and death under such a one. "Majesty, I have said that I will go to advise. Nehesi will deploy. I can confidently say that the battle is won if we two have the planning of it."
They all laughed at his little joke, and the air seemed to clear.
Thothmes yawned. "Then it is settled. Is it not?" He looked anxiously at Hatshepsut.
She nodded. "I think so. Hapuseneb, I leave the victualing and arming and gathering in to you. Pitch tents on the land south of the city, and prepare to march from there. Brief your officers well, with the help of Aahmes and Nehesi. The Scribes of Assemblage, Infantry, and Distribution await you. Nehesi, I appoint you General. You understand that this
appointment is given in the trust that you will serve to the death and answer to no one but your King or myself. Do you have any doubts? This foray is against your countrymen, the people of Kush."
*'I have fought them before/' he said indifferently. ''All enemies of Egypt are the same to me. I serve only Egypt, every day of my life."
His new appointment did not seem to mean anything to him, and Hatshepsut repressed a shudder. She had never before met a colder man.
She dismissed all but Senmut, Hapuseneb, and User-amun to work, and they filed out, glad to stretch their legs. For a moment they lingered about the door, discussing the coming march; then they scattered to their duties. They had no doubt that it was the Queen who had the ordering of the expedition. They knew that nothing they did would be overlooked.
As the three young men waited, Hatshepsut turned to Thothmes, who was on his way out into the garden. She drew him farther away from her waiting ministers. 'Thothmes, are you going to lead your troops yourself?"
He looked miserable. "Why should I?" he asked her defiantly. "Egypt abounds in capable generals, and the captains fall over one another. You know as well as I do that I am no warrior. Let Hapuseneb lead my men."
"Hapuseneb has his own squadron to handle, as well as the overall campaign to plot. Thothmes, will you not ride?"
He looked mutinous. "No, I will not! It is ridiculous for the precious body of Pharaoh to be endangered without need."
"But there is a need!" she said to him urgently. "The men need to see you, glorious in your battle attire, leading them, putting heart into them!"
"You sound like my mother," he flashed back. "I will not go! I will ride on my litter as far as Assuan. There I will await the return. There I will receive the tribute and will order the fate of the captives. But I will not go!
She turned from him in utter disgust. "Then I will go! The people of Egypt shall see and shall know that their Queen is worthy of them!"
He was appalled. "You are mad! You have never seen human blood, and you have never been in the slightest danger. Can you march and thirst for water and sleep on the ground?"
"Can you?" she lashed him. "In the name of the God, Thothmes, have you no pride? I can throw a spear and shoot a bow. I can outrun any charioteer in the army! I trust my men. They will not fail me. They love me.
"Everyone loves you, mad though you are. Even me," he grumbled.
Contrite, she put a hand on his arm. "I must ride if you do not," she said gently. "I will be in no danger. I will be surrounded by the strongest arms and the keenest eyes in Egypt. Ride with me, Thothmes! Show
l^gypt and the people of Kiish a glimpse of the Pharaohs of old!"
1 le shook off her arm and walked away. "You are mad, really mad," he flung back at her over his shoulder.
She turned on her heel and stalked to the waiting men, her cheeks red and her chest heaving. '*I am going into Nubia with the troops," she told them. They looked at her in disbelief.
Senmut cried out in alarm. ''Majesty, you must not! A battlefield is no place for a queen!"
She gave him a queer smile. *'I am not a queen," she said, her tone chilling him. ''I am God, the beginning of existence. Do not again say 'must' to me, Senmut. I want to go. I shall lead the troops of Pharaoh. My Standard-Bearer shall go before me; the Braves of the King and Nehesi, behind."
"Then let me speak another way." He was desperate now, afraid for her. He saw in her eyes the glint of waywardness. "If you perish, what of Egypt? And who shall rule while you fight?"
"I shall not perish. I know it. Amun will protect me. You, Senmut, shall govern while I am gone. User-amun, you will assist. I know you are not fitted for war." She turned quickly. "Senmut, I make you Erpa-ha." The last words were sudden, almost abrupt. They stared at her, bereft
of thought and speech.
Senmut heard the words come to him from far away. Once more he felt the warm wings of destiny brush him, feathers of fate. He looked into her wide black eyes as if he were peering down into a dangerous and fathomless pit.
She touched his head, his shoulders, his heart, feeling it race unevenly under her fingers. She laughed, though her lips trembled. "I would have done it before long in any case," she said, "for you have proven yourself in my service. But it must be now, today, for I cannot have a commoner as my second while I am away. Be Erpa-ha, Hereditary Prince of Thebes and all Egypt, you and your sons after you, forever. I, Hatshepsut, Beloved of Amun, Child of Amun, Queen of Egypt, make it so."
He knelt swiftly and caught her ankles, kissing her bejeweled feet. When he rose, he was unable to speak for the lump in his throat.
All at once she embraced him, holding him tightly to her, enveloping him in perfume and hair. "Never was the title so deserved," she said. "Be happy in the love of your lord, Senmut!" She released him and turned to Hapuseneb. "And you," she said. "What can I give to you? For you have everything the heart of man could desire, and your ancestors walked Egypt with mine." She smiled into the unwavering gray eyes, and Hapuseneb smiled back slowly. "Yet I know, Hapuseneb, that the thing you seek is
to be forever denied to you, though I wish it were not so/'
He bowed gravely. ''I know it also, Majesty, yet I am not embittered. You are my Queen, my Master. I serve you as long as I breathe."
'Then to you I offer the position of Chief of the Prophets of South and North. As a Vizier and the son of a vizier you should know what this means."
He bowed, moved. '*! know indeed. Great power you put into my hands, Noble One. It shall not be abused."
'Then to work. Senmut, User-amun, we will spend the rest of the day in conference with Ineni and the others. Rely on Ineni. He knows more of government than even I. And you, Hapuseneb, be about your business. I wish to leave Thebes for Assuan in five days."
In the evening, when the Sun had gone and taken the worst of the heat with him and his fire was no more than a few wisps of purple on the rim of the hills, Hatshepsut and Senmut walked beside Amun's Lake, their reflections stirring in the ripple of the water's slow washing. A mood of quiet was on them, and they did not share their thoughts, pacing side by side, their heads down, their hands brushing loosely. When they had almost completed a circuit, Hatshepsut stopped. They sat on the grassy verge, watching the geese fly home in the warm twilight.
''Will you have the time to work more in the valley?" she asked. "It would be good to return and see the first terrace complete. Already it is a thing of beauty, my temple."
"It is a mirror," he replied, "a reflection of your own loveliness. Amun could wish for no better monument from his favored Daughter."
She inclined her head, then fell to picking the dry, crisp leaves of the willow from the drooping branches. 'Tell me," she said, her head averted, "now that you are Erpa-ha and a high noble and Prince of the land, will you have sons to hold the title after you?"
He smiled at the dark, bent head, but he answered her seriously. "I do not know. Majesty, but I think not. To have sons I must first take a wife."
"There is Ta-kha'et."
"True. But I do not think that I will marry Ta-kha'et, though I am very fond of her."
"You may change your mind as the years go by. How old are you, Senmut?"
"I have been on the earth for twenty-six years."
She was still not looking at him, shredding apart the curled leaves with nervous fingers. "Most men have at least one wife," she said haltingly. "Do you not want a home full of children?"
''Majesty, you know why I cannot marry." He chicled her gently, knowing that to her the future suddenly seemed uncertain, her mind full of the coming march south. "Is it not best that we pursue some other train of thought?"
She turned to him, brushing the speckles of brown leaf from her knees. ''I know why indeed," she said, ''but will you not tell me in words? Is it because I have loaded you with too many responsibilities?"
'Tou know that also." He knew what she wanted him to say. He wanted with all his heart to say it, but the Cobra glinted upon her head, and at her throat lay one of her royal cartouches. He could not separate the Queen from the woman.
She flung back her head, and holding her hands palm up in the gesture of supplication, she pressed him. ''Say it to me! And do not think that I have bribed you with a title so that I could force this thing from you. I know you well enough. You never lie to yourself or to me. Say it!"
"Very well." He clasped his knees, and his eyes found the last of the light, limning the temple towers in brief color, so that they stood out as sharply as the edge of a knife. "I love you. Not only as my Queen but as the woman for whom I long I love you. You knew, and yet you have forced it from me with no thought of my pride because you are Queen and I must answer. It was a cruel thing to do."
As she drank in his calm profile, her fingers curled and clenched. "It was no weakness," she answered. "I am to go away, and I am afraid. I need your words, Senmut, to hold to me, to take with me, to warm me. As Queen I expect your homage, but as a woman—" She put a hand on his arm, light as the touch of wind on grass. "Give me a gift, Senmut."
His gaze did not leave the tops of the temple wall. "Anything," he said quietly, but she felt the muscles of his arm tense and relax.
"If I take off my coronet and my cartouche, the ankh from my arm and the seal from my waist, and lay them in the grass, will you kiss me?"
His gaze snapped to her. When he saw that she was not playing a game with him but looked up at him, her mouth quivering and her eyes shining with tears, he took her face between his hands, stroking the smooth cheeks in joyous disbelief. "No," he whispered, "no. Mighty One. I will kiss you as you are, my Divine Queen, my heart's disease, my sister. There will be no pretense." And with infinite gentleness he placed his lips on hers, tasting her sweetness and the salt of her tears, feeling her arms encircle his neck, while the last of the sun's light slipped from the towers and fell to the earth, dragging quickly through the trees and vanishing behind the mantle of the night.
Seven days later, in the precious cool hours of early morning, the host of Egypt made rank on the desert, a mile south of Thebes. They were two days late because Djehuty and his men had become lost while trying to take a shortcut through the hills. In those two days Hatshepsut had fretted angrily. Aahmes pen-Nekheb, ever matter-of-fact, told her that in any case they would be too late to engage the Nubians before they reached the second garrison and two days would make little difference, but she stormed and paced anyway, in a fever of impatience to be gone.
Thothmes had spent the time with his mother, who had filled his ears with advice. In the end he had gone to Hatshepsut's palace, but she had sent him away peremptorily, with short words. He had spent his last night in Thebes alone on his royal couch, looking darkly into his future.
In the morning he stood on the reviewing stand that had been set up, together with Hatshepsut, pen-Nekheb, Hapuseneb, and Nehesi. It was a fine morning, the breeze lifting the standards and fluttering the flags, the sun glinting on the ranks of spears and shouldered axes like a thousand sparks flickering on tinder. The stiff lines of infantry waited, eyes front, motionless. Far to the rear stood their tents, white cones clustered like little toy pyramids. On each side of the four thousand men stood the chariots, small and light, copper-plated, their big, spoked wheels gleaming dully. The horses waited also, tossing their brown heads, their plumes, white, yellow, and red, blowing gaily. Hatshepsut looked out over it all, the power and focal point, the stay of Egypt.
Before her stood the Division of Horus, their Standard-Bearer wearing the hooked beak and cruel eyes of the God. The generals, in full battle dress, had lined up at the foot of the dais. The Shock Troops were nearest to her, hard men with hard eyes, those who died first and who left the field last. Their officers stood among them, bows slung over their s
houlders and spears butt down in the sand. The Prince of the Division of Horus was Hapuseneb. He had chosen to march with them instead of riding up front with Pharaoh. He waited also, his cold eyes never wavering from the woman on the dais. Thothmes had donned the Double Crown, but it was to Hatshepsut the men looked, She was wearing the dress of a comman-
dcr, a short white kilt, a short leather hehiiet that hid her hair and touched her shoulders, and white leather gauntlets to shield her hands from the ruh of bow and rein alike. She also wore white leather boots, and under the gloves her wrists held the thick silver bands of Commander of the Braves of the King. Only on her helmet did she bow to her true station. A little silver Cobra rose from her forehead, and even the men far back could see the sunlight catch it. Her eyes traveled the rows of foot soldiers and the blue-helmeted charioteers, rising at last above the forest of spear tips and bows to the palace standing red in the distance. She abruptly turned to Thothmes, thinking of Senmut waiting on the roof and of User-amun and Ineni gathered above the walls to watch the army leave.
''Will you speak to them, or shall I?" she asked. 'Ten-Nekheb, are we ready? But where are the Braves of the King?" She swung anxiously to Nehesi, and he bowed, pointing with one leather-clad hand.
''Here they march now," he said. 'They are late, but I do not apologize. Majesty. You will see why in a moment."
From around a grove of trees, by the river, her fifty men appeared, their feet leaving a cloud of dust behind them, their shields slung across their backs. Before them a chariot rolled, new, finely plated in gold, intricately tooled and worked, the plumes of Amun engraved on its high prow and the Eye of Horus on each side. Its reins and curbs were of the finest, strongest leather. The horses' bits and tackles were gold. The spinning spokes whirled golden, too, as the charioteer raised his whip and the sturdy little horses broke into a gallop. In a flurry of suffocating dust and dancing white plumes it drew up before the party on the dais, and Menkh twirled his whip and jumped to the ground, laughing. Behind him the Braves of the King came to a halt and saluted. Nehesi left the stand, leaping gracefully to the earth, and walked to them. Hatshepsut strode to the edge and looked down.
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